The Pier
The Pier
“That’s your hotel?” Jane exclaimed as she made the left turn into the Hilton down the beach. Pat only solemnly nodded, a modest smile on his lips. “Wow.”
“It reminds me a little of home, though.” He shrugged, unclipping his seatbelt as Jane pulled into the driveway in front of the reception area, stopping right behind a large white concierge van. He scrunched up his nose in discomfort, scratching the side of his head.
“How? It’s a hotel.”
“It’s too… white.” He turned his gaze from the rain-speckled window and gave her a humorous grin, his nose still scrunched up into a curve on the left side of his face, his eye momentarily held in a wink. Jane couldn’t help but look down at the radio. His facial expressions, oddly amusing and adorable, made her blush like crazy.
She could tell that Pat wouldn’t be considered ‘hot’ by many a standard, unless one preferred stick-skinny boys with chicken legs and unflattering flattened facial features. His hair wasn’t band-boy chic, but a rather flat, dull brown; a longish ‘do that she had learned was grown out to hide his abnormally large ears (‘abnormally large’ in his eyes). She herself wouldn’t say he was ‘hot,’ but what drew her to him was his endearing nature. Yes, he had a peculiar drawing quality in his looks, but his charm was what really pulled her to want to know more of Pat. And at the end of the day, she had told herself, looks didn’t matter; she didn’t consider herself that superficial.
“Too white?” she repeated with a light laugh.
“My room may be covered in posters, but it’s still a blinding white.” He shrugged. “It’s just like every single inch of the rest of the house. Except for, y’know, like the kitchen... and stuff.” He gave her another small smile and looked back at the hotel. His foot once again started tapping against the browned beige carpeted car floor, a bouncy, ill-syncopated rhythm lacking a specific beat.
Pat cleared his throat, slowing the slightly annoying bounce of his leg into a light tap of a finger against his door’s window controls. “I guess I should… yeah.” He nodded to the hotel, another small smile faintly playing on his lips.
“I’ll see you, right?” Jane asked, adverting her eyes back to the radio the second Pat turned back from the window. She proceeded to turn the tuning knob to a different radio station (the preset buttons were broken).
Pat was at first hesitant to stretch out his hand over hers, but he overcame his doubts and just clasped her chilly hand in his.
“Yeah.” He nodded and smiled again, but furrowed his eyebrows in thought before reassuring his own answer: “Definitely.”
Jane nodded in agreement and squeezed his hand, the route to silencing his constant tapping and fidgeting. A sad expression crossed his face when he squeezed back, but he was quick to wipe it away. Jane caught sight of it before it disappeared, though.
He quickly converted his blank look to a smile, and leaned over the dash to softly kiss her cheek. He smiled against her skin and timidly ducked his head, a nervous laugh appropriately attached.
“See you, Jane,” he quietly bade, awkwardly succeeding in slipping out both his lanky legs from the car. He slipped his hand from hers and balanced his slight weight against the edge of the center console, the whites of his knuckles sticking out against the dark beige of the car’s interior.
He was pulling himself from his low seat near the ground when he felt Jane’s hand clasp over his set on the plastic of the center console. He turned back around, awkwardly succeeding in sticking his left leg back into the car. Jane set her other hand against his cheek and leaned over the multiple CDs stacked in the cup holder to gently kiss him, barely ghosting her lips against his. Pat slumped his hand from the console’s edge and fumbled his fingers into hers onto the Rush Greatest Hits topping the crooked stack of jewel cases, quickly squeezing her cold hand as Jane smiled into the kiss.
In all but a couple of seconds, she pulled back. She quietly scanned his eyes and tucked back some hair behind his ears – his complimentary ears – and kissed his forehead.
“I’ll see you on the pier?”
“It reminds me a little of home, though.” He shrugged, unclipping his seatbelt as Jane pulled into the driveway in front of the reception area, stopping right behind a large white concierge van. He scrunched up his nose in discomfort, scratching the side of his head.
“How? It’s a hotel.”
“It’s too… white.” He turned his gaze from the rain-speckled window and gave her a humorous grin, his nose still scrunched up into a curve on the left side of his face, his eye momentarily held in a wink. Jane couldn’t help but look down at the radio. His facial expressions, oddly amusing and adorable, made her blush like crazy.
She could tell that Pat wouldn’t be considered ‘hot’ by many a standard, unless one preferred stick-skinny boys with chicken legs and unflattering flattened facial features. His hair wasn’t band-boy chic, but a rather flat, dull brown; a longish ‘do that she had learned was grown out to hide his abnormally large ears (‘abnormally large’ in his eyes). She herself wouldn’t say he was ‘hot,’ but what drew her to him was his endearing nature. Yes, he had a peculiar drawing quality in his looks, but his charm was what really pulled her to want to know more of Pat. And at the end of the day, she had told herself, looks didn’t matter; she didn’t consider herself that superficial.
“Too white?” she repeated with a light laugh.
“My room may be covered in posters, but it’s still a blinding white.” He shrugged. “It’s just like every single inch of the rest of the house. Except for, y’know, like the kitchen... and stuff.” He gave her another small smile and looked back at the hotel. His foot once again started tapping against the browned beige carpeted car floor, a bouncy, ill-syncopated rhythm lacking a specific beat.
Pat cleared his throat, slowing the slightly annoying bounce of his leg into a light tap of a finger against his door’s window controls. “I guess I should… yeah.” He nodded to the hotel, another small smile faintly playing on his lips.
“I’ll see you, right?” Jane asked, adverting her eyes back to the radio the second Pat turned back from the window. She proceeded to turn the tuning knob to a different radio station (the preset buttons were broken).
Pat was at first hesitant to stretch out his hand over hers, but he overcame his doubts and just clasped her chilly hand in his.
“Yeah.” He nodded and smiled again, but furrowed his eyebrows in thought before reassuring his own answer: “Definitely.”
Jane nodded in agreement and squeezed his hand, the route to silencing his constant tapping and fidgeting. A sad expression crossed his face when he squeezed back, but he was quick to wipe it away. Jane caught sight of it before it disappeared, though.
He quickly converted his blank look to a smile, and leaned over the dash to softly kiss her cheek. He smiled against her skin and timidly ducked his head, a nervous laugh appropriately attached.
“See you, Jane,” he quietly bade, awkwardly succeeding in slipping out both his lanky legs from the car. He slipped his hand from hers and balanced his slight weight against the edge of the center console, the whites of his knuckles sticking out against the dark beige of the car’s interior.
He was pulling himself from his low seat near the ground when he felt Jane’s hand clasp over his set on the plastic of the center console. He turned back around, awkwardly succeeding in sticking his left leg back into the car. Jane set her other hand against his cheek and leaned over the multiple CDs stacked in the cup holder to gently kiss him, barely ghosting her lips against his. Pat slumped his hand from the console’s edge and fumbled his fingers into hers onto the Rush Greatest Hits topping the crooked stack of jewel cases, quickly squeezing her cold hand as Jane smiled into the kiss.
In all but a couple of seconds, she pulled back. She quietly scanned his eyes and tucked back some hair behind his ears – his complimentary ears – and kissed his forehead.
“I’ll see you on the pier?”